Changeling Memory
by Anthiena
Summary: Danny makes an ill-worded wish that puts another in his place... but what kind of person is it? How will this person change his life? Meanwhile, Jazz looks for Danny and goes into the Ghost Zone... alone.
1. Nowadays

Changeling Memory

By. Anthiena

Disclaimer: I do not own DP, nor do I have any rights or permissions to it or any associated characters. Entirely non-profit. Seriously. This applies for all future chappies. I _do_ own one character who will show up next chapter. Don't steal. Taking liberties with cannon and the calendar, but as Tavalya Ra says, cannon is your boom stick. Thanks Tav for your comments on the little part of this I posted on Deviantart (same username). This will be a journal-type thing, updated once I have the chapter done, no sooner, no later. Insertations is the injection of a real life person into a story. A "type 1" is putting that person wholesale into a story, body and all. A "type 2" puts the person into a character's body. So who am I injecting into the story? Wouldn't _you_ like to know? /evil grin

**Chapter 1: Nowadays**

_Djinn; 2:45, Monday, April 5_

Danny wasn't feeling well. It wasn't a common feeling nowadays; his healing abilities made sure that he was never sick, but he _could_ feel tired and did that day. On the other hand, him being sleep deprived had become more common than he cared to think about nowadays. It wasn't pleasant, but it was his life, now. He floated closer to some things on the ground.

He had skipped out of Science class in order to fight one of the almost random ghosts that showed up from time to time: not long in smarts, moderately strong and highly annoying. Highly. He still sensed a ghost or two-one strong. The forms took on definition, looking like dolls of some kind. Most of them were in formal business clothes, about little more than half men. He thought that maybe, just maybe some department store had lost its display dummies, but they were too well put together, too realistic. Something was wrong. He landed and then checked the nearest one, seeing a most realistic expression of fear. He almost screamed and slowly reached out to one of the women to check for a pulse, hoping...

...only to touch rubber.

"What the hell...?" he spoke, bewildered.

Nearby, an eight foot Big Boy walked around, chasing squirrels, a familiar-looking rabbit laughing maniacally at it and a woman wailed in horrified denial. He approached the woman, who held a large, bulbous fleshy... _thing_. Blood was all over the woman and the thing and Danny held his mouth shut, afraid he'd throw up. "Oh god... I wish none of that happened... ugh-I wish I remembered something else..." He shuddered, unable to speak anymore.

He heard cursing-or at least, it _sounded_ like cursing; it wasn't English the ghost was speaking. Desiree popped into view, glaring at him, her voice angry as she finished her soliloquy and spat out a phrase in English. "As you have wished it, so shall it be!" Then a terrible sly grin crept over the ancient harem girl's features. "This..." Her magic flowed over the mannequins, who got up and ran; _humans..._ the rabbit disappeared; Big Boy stilled. "This is too easy." The quivering thing became a teen he recognized from school.

"Oh, no..." Danny went pale as the realization of what he had said hit him.

"So you have wished it..." She flicked up her hand, arm extended, palm out toward Danny in an odd, dance-like gesture. "_So shall it be!_" She crowed, her cruel smile the last thing Danny knew before he started screaming in pain. He crashed to the ground, unconscious, reverting to human. She floated to him, ectoplasm burning in her hand. "Petulant child; I should kill the brat." She muttered distastefully.

"That would be _my_ job; besides, my employer wouldn't want that." Came a bored voice with a slightly aggravated edge to it.

Desiree spun around to face a hulking mechanical ghost-or at least he looked that way. Not many knew what-if anything-lay under the suit. "Skulker." She spoke simply in greeting, but then she laughed. "Oh ho, ho, ho! I **know** _your_ employer will put the ghost child in his place!"

Skulker shrugged, vaguely annoyed, scowling at the unconscious hybrid, then picking him up. "I wish we were fifty minutes northwest, zero trajectory from my current employer's portal in the Ghost Zone, myself and my cargo unimpeded and able to proceed safely." He requested.

Desiree looked furious when their surroundings became that of the Zone, cursing soundly in an ancient dialect as she seethed. Skulker checked the boy and wasn't surprised to see the boy in ghost form. He engaged his thrusters, jetting away from the irate djinn; he had no intention of healing with her. He would not waste time and risk the boy waking. So often he did things on his employer's behalf that he didn't like nowadays...

_5:56 PM; Seekers_

Tucker and Sam were on mopeds on opposite sides of town. He hadn't come back and he was good about at least checking in with them over cell phone-usually. They often hunted with him, though Jazz had come with them a few times recently. It just wasn't the same nowadays for Sam or Tucker, but Tucker was dealing with it.

At least Danny had family on his side, now. Danny had gotten closer to them all over the last year, but there had been a lot of scary times. Plenty of nightmares had woken him up at night from it all, but it was also exciting. His best friend was a _super hero_; how cool was that? Well it'd be even _better_ if _he_ could become one too, but...

At that moment, he was in the Industrial District of Amity Park. "Nope, not here, either." He reported from outside the warehouse where they'd first dealt with the Box Ghost. Talk about annoying.

"Circus Gothica is still out of commission, so no help there." Sam spoke over the phones dryly.

"He's not in Amity Park anywhere; the Ghost Zone, maybe? Man, that's just too big for two-three people to look."

"The Boomerang? My next call's gonna be to Jazz. She's gotta be freaking out about now."

"She is; she lost your number, but she called me. She found that thing in pieces and a lot of other gadgets were trashed, too."

"I have a bad feeling about this." Sam sounded shaken. "Who do we know that plans ahead like that?"

"Spectra? Plasmius? Those are the only ones I can think of, unless..."

"Clockwork." Both spoke at once.

"What if he's _why_ Danny disappeared?" Sam pointed out, worried.

Tucker skidded to a stop. "Sam, don't even _think_ about that. If Clockwork really wanted something out of Danny, there isn't much we can do about it, he knows _everything_."

"I still don't believe that." He leaned over his handlebars as she spoke stubbornly.

"Believe what you want, I'm going to keep looking." Tucker replied, equally stubborn.

_6:02 PM, Jazz in the Lab_

Jazz had gone down to her parent's lab, trying to sort through the tangled mess of trashed gadgetry, trying to find something, _anything_ remotely useful for tracking; alas, all were wrecked. Some of the other tech was as well, but _all_ of the tracking equipment were either in pieces, smashed or even bore tell-tale scorch marks. The portal, most tellingly, was left virtually untouched. Obviously, it had been a ghost.

The question now was which one. She picked up a busted up motherboard, frowning. Danny... only recently had her little brother found out that she had known his secret for a while. It was still weird to be able to talk with Danny about his heroics. She really was proud of him, but she was a little scared. She dropped the invention.

She went to the Fenton Speeder and checked the dashboard. Entire panels were ripped out, others melted or smashed. Yes, whoever had done it or had ordered it done had planned it faultlessly and knew full well of Fenton Gadgetry. Sure, plenty of ghosts knew about the Thermos, the Specter Deflector and even the Fenton Peeler; but the Fenton Finder? The Boomerang? Nobody used the Fenton Finder, Danny didn't need it and her parents had deemed it a failure. The Boomerang had been rarely used-only once, by her, to find Danny far as she knew.

She had a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach as she thought. _Could he...?_ No, that didn't fit with what she knew. She began picking up the mess in the lab, noting again what had been lost and what had survived. She would figure out what had happened, one way or another.

_3:40 PM;_ _The Who, The Bounty and Without the Why_

There were other ghosts who would pay well indeed for the hybrid under his arm, dead or alive. They would also pay very handsomely for his employer's head, but none were exactly likely to pay the Hunter and let him leave unmolested. In fact, he _knew_ he would be signing a veritable death warrant if he dealt with most of them. At least this employer was trustworthy; he _kept_ his bargains. The two were actually on good terms with one another personally.

Skulker was honorable in a loose sense. Oh, he still wanted the hybrid's pelt, but the consequences of going against _that_ particular man were not something that he'd wish for himself; or on most of his enemies, for that man. So when he pushed the football-shaped construct out of the way and went through the portal, he proceeded with caution. Plasmius wasn't in sight, but the Hunter knew he'd come soon enough. He dropped the teen incautiously to the floor and checked him over.

Human form, still unconscious, rapid eye movement for a few seconds, slow even breathing; the boy was asleep after the painful encounter. Though Plasmius had made it plain that he didn't want the boy damaged, there was nothing Skulker could do about Desiree's actions; it made _his_ job easier, to be sure.

Plasmius took about twenty minutes, but he came out in lab attire over his human form. He looked slightly peeved until he saw Danny on the ground. "What happened to Daniel?"

Skulker decided to err on the side of honesty. "Desiree happened. The boy made a wish." At his employer's alarmed look, Skulker played a recording of the teen's foolish wish.

The man crossed his arms, frowning thoughtfully, his eyes calculating. "What memories, I wonder? Will his remain?" He mused aloud.

Skulker got paid-he could always count on that. Plasmius never asked how he was able to use the money or what he did with it, he didn't want to know. The rise of the Digital Age made things easier for one such as he. He had ways.

Skulker left with his money and the promised (and critically needed) upgrades and repairs, leaving the two hybrids to themselves. He wasn't a baby sitter. He wondered, figuring that the two wouldn't kill each other, what the teen would be like the next time they met. Who would he be then?

...who indeed?


	2. Sleepers

Changeling Memory  
By: Anthiena  
Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom or any associated characters except the one whose memories Danny wakes up with, natch.  
Note: I made three versions of the opening of this chapter before I was happy with it. I just went way too fast with it! The chapter took some reorganizing between scenes-originally, Jazz's bit came at the end, not the middle. The new sequence flows much better and ends on a proper note, I think. Looking at writing twice is a sure way to tell reality from a dream; in reality, the writing doesn't change, the dream, it does. Ghost Writer's description of his powers is based off how Diligence does in Chess Piece by Neo Yi on Dev Art. His computer's from Tenchi Muyo! Thanks for the reading! Please review!

Chapter 2: Sleepers

_April 11, 8:00 PM; Juxtapose_

Distant pain greeted the teen, though his aching head didn't seem to bother him too much. Blue eyes opened. "I'm dreaming. I have to be." He spoke sleepily, but sat up, almost falling back when a wave of dizziness hit him. "How long have I been out?" He then chuckled. "Wait, I'm still sleeping."

He was in a gurney in some sort of lab that was oddly familiar. The teen looked down at himself. He was in a hospital gown, an IV in his arm. He massaged the back of his head, feeling short hair and rubbed his eyes, noting excellent vision. Heread the label of the bag of fluid he was hooked to: saline solution. His mouth felt dry and he swallowed painfully. He noted the large hexagonal door set into the wall and the various metal parts and odd gadgets. He looked again carefully at the liquid bag. None of the words had changed.

He patted down his flat chest, ignoring a muted _click, _worry and near panic creasing his eyebrows. "I'm not dreaming... _how am I not dreaming_?"

He then noticed an odd bracelet with a longish string and plug on it. Various leads hooked him up to a heart monitor and a plug for the cord on his wrist was on the same machine. A red LED indicator flashed, though for what purpose, he could only guess. "Isn't that usually for...?" He trailed off, uncertain. "Unless I'm the first brain transplant ever, something's wrong. Have I-has this body been sick?" He spoke in disbelief. "Huh. This voice sounds familiar."

He laid back, feeling feverish, but sat up again, swinging his legs over. He blinked away the dots that swam before his eyes, taking in a few deep breaths. He slid off carefully, his bare feet cold on the linoleum floor. He grabbed a water filled glass from a stand and sipped it carefully, remembering good advice. It helped, but he still felt weak.

He sat back on the bed, pulling his legs back up and tugging the blanket over himself. He lay back, heavy-headed. He heard fet hit the ground softly. The muted clicking of dress shoes made him look to the left, where he saw someone vaguely familiar, though he couldn't real a name or where he knew the person from. "Where... where am I?" He asked.

"Wisconsin." The man replied curtly. That voice...

"Who are you?" The teen was bewildered. "How long was I _out_?"

The man looked curious and oddly pleased. He wore an expensive-looking suit but wore some sort of lab coat over it. He was obviously an older man, his long, dark grey hair going white tied back in a ponytail and wore a flamboyant red bowtie. Intelligent grew-blue eyes in a surprisingly youthful face bore into him shrewdly. The teen mentally pegged him at early 40's. Very well-put together and not unpleasent looking. "I'm Vlad Masters. You've been very sick, Little Badger. You've been in a coma for nearly a week."

Though the nickname tickled his memory, the man's name was well known to him-he just didn't want to believe it. "I know you, but I don't remember how." The teen remembered vague things about having a decent poker face, but he was not going to fool this man-much. His head began to pound and fell heavy and thick.

"What can you remember?" Vlad pressed. "Can you remember your name? Your age? Who the president is?"

The questions were standard. "Of course I remember. Um... I'm-" He thought a moment, his thoughts slippery. "My names's Cassie, I'm twenty-two and Obama is president. Something's wrong here, I should be a _girl_. This body feels all wrong... my head... can't think..."

The man did not look all that surprised. "Whoever you _were_, Little Badger, you're Daniel, age fourteen, now." He told the teen. "You should sleep. The worst is over, but you are still very sick. You don't remember me at all, do you?"

"Only your name, Mr. Masters." True enough, that. The teen laid back, closing his eyes and sighing. Vlad took the monitoring bracelet off the teen, plugging back into the machine and placing it on top. He had theories on how Daniel had gotten sick, how he'd slept so long and why there was something very odd going on in the teen's brain, but none provable. The boy was totally, utterly vulnerable, possibly malleable.

Through the portal came a heavily armored ghost who was thankfully loyal to him. The armor looked more like an idea of medieval armor rather than the reality of it. Fright Knight was an imposing figure, an old, very strong ghost with a smooth, authoritive baritone. He had a following among the older ghosts and was rumored to have once been involved with the ghost that created the Ring of Rage and Crown of Fire. "Ah, Fright Knight, you missed it. Daniel was awake and aware." Of course, after stealing the relics, that relationship had gone to the dogs.

"Did Desiree's foul spell not take?" He spoke formally, his manner of speech old-fashioned.

"Actually, it did. He remembers nothing of being himself. What do you bring?"

"A report. Various ghost communities including the Far Frozen..." The Spirit of Halloween launched into a barebones account. The knight's progress was pleasing. Vlad counted himself lucky; some of the ghosts who lived on their own were either insane or close enough for government work, so to speak.

Fright Knight left after his report. The two were not close and had little in common. Vlad knew the teen would be sleeping for some time yet and decided to catch some sleep himself, as he had slept but little since the boy had come. He decided that he rather looked forward to getting to know this new Daniel.

_April 14, 4:35 PM; Exodus_

It was such an interesting device. Miniaturized with precision and packed with sadly useless files. The shell OS that ran it was simple, elegant but very limited in capabilities. It was some kind of media player and communications device, with an intuitive touch and motion interface. However, this place had few such working devices; others refused to work correctly or were fakes. Nicolai Technus was frustrated and confused.

Just why did humans do such frivolous, insane things with technology? There was something he was simply not grasping. He took out this grustration, calling the working technology, powering them with his staff. Tesla coils were damn useful, if extremely hard to come by. An example of wasted technology was in the hands and armor of the young woman now before him. She blasted him, which distracted him enough for her to hook some kind of metallic belt around his waist. "What the-" He screamed as he felt his strength fail. The technology fell around him.

"Where is he?" She ground out evenly, aiming her gun. He did recognize her armor or her voice.

"I, Technus, Master of All Technology and Cell Phones, known not this _he_ of which you speak!" He had a feeling about who she was asking after; word had gotten around that the Ghost Child that they had fought so often was missing in action. "There are-"

The girl pressed the barrel of the gun into his shoulder. While a shot there would not be immediately _fatal_, sush a wound _would_ be immediately painful. "Unless you'd like a hole in your clothes-" not to mention what was beneath them- "I would tell whatever you know about Danny Phantom if I were you."

He felt a shiver. "Well, that's convincing! I, Technus, have heard that the ghost child had disappeared, but I, Technus, Master of Computers, do not know where he is! Rumor points to Ghost Writer, Desiree, Skulker or Plasmius!"

The woman pointed her weapon down. For human-ghost dealings, this was highly irregular. She glanced around, and seemed not to find anything in sight. "Look, The Red Hunter will be here soon, the Fentons are on their was and so are Sam and Tucher. You _could_ take your chances with them in your weakened state... or you could help yourself by helping me."

"What would a human care about a ghost?" Technus challenged haughtily.

"You don't think the human half came out of nowhere, did you?" She asked logically. "Danny's important to me; I'm not like most humans, I guess in that. Can you overshadow a phone?" The woman deactivated the armor, revealing a comely red headed woman.

"Of course!" He replied. "That would be easy for the Master of All Technology, even in this state!"

"Good; it would be smart to overshadow my phone before my parents get here. It'll raise suspicion if I'm found here talking to a ghost, so you should do it _soon_." She held out a cell phone.

"O-of course." He was impressed; this one actually thought first before acting. He disappeared into the pearl pink phone with few words for once, turning the phone to a green and black two-tone.

The woman left the store quickly, getting into her tiny car and starting it. Although her parents were upset over Danny's vanishing act, they had kept on their ghost hunting. The Fenton RV passed her on the street. "What do you plan on doing?" Came Nicolai's voice, which startled her but didn't surprise her too much.

"We are going into the Ghost Zone. What ghost could help me find Danny?"

A moment of silence. "Clockwork or Ghost Writer."

"I thought rumor said Ghost Writer might be involved." She queried.

"I _know_ Ghost Writer. He'd teach the Ghost Kid a lesson, but not hurt him, not on purpose and he'd be able to set things back, that's the way he works."

"So he could help me?" She asked.

"He could." Technus assured. "He'll want a story and something else in return."

"Like what?" She asked. "What could a ghost possibly want that _I_ could give?"

'Well... eh... _you_." He sounded oddly hesitant and stiff. "He likes... _company_... from time to time."

She considered this. "That's easy enough. Could you lead me to him? I'll take that belt off of you."

Technus hesitated. "I could."

"_Would_ you?"

"You'll take off this device?"

"Of course." She shrugged. "I'm not a ghost hunter, even if the rest of my family are."

She pulled into her parent's garage and killed the engine. Her parents (after some begging on the part of various local business owners) had started helping in various ways, including clean up, which Valerie had been forced to do as well by her father in return for looking the other way. They would be gone a while yet.

She made herself eat in spite of her nervousness and packed several things into an oldish hiking backpack, like clothes, food and water, a large first aid kit she hoped to never need, a bundle for things like soap and feminine supplies and a highly unneeded but reassuring Bearbert. She sent silent thanks to her mother for teaching her how to pack the maximum amount into a minimal space and for keeping an old copy of the original Tetris.

She also put on a weapons belt of her mother's own design with the inactive Fenton Peeler, lip balm laser, a smallish but powerful ectogun nicknamed "Crikey" and a few non-ghostly devices, like a digital recorder, a mini-first aid kit and a water bottle. "Okay, I'm ready." She told herself with a nervous sigh.

"You're really going into the Ghost Zone, aren't you kid?"

"I'd assume that Ghost Writer is in the Ghost Zone, so yes, unless I assume wrong."

Technus made an unhappy sound. "No, you assume correctly."

She wrote a hasty note, leaving it for her parents and then headed down the stairs. She opened the portal and stared into the swirling green depths. She took a deep breath, silently wishing that the Fenton Speeder was repaired. The inhopital, bizarre surrounding unnerved her, yet took her breath away with its alien beauty. Green skies like during Pariah Dark's attack, floating doors of every possible color, shape and size and rocky debris greeted her disbelieving eyes, but she quickly got a hold of herself. She pulled out her cell phone and technus came out of it, stretching. "I can help, but I need this contraption off of me." He indicated the belt with a huff.

"When we meet Ghost Writer, that way you won't abandon me to wander."

He didn't look happy at that. "Then off to Ghost Writer, Master of Art." He took her wrist and flew, pulling her along. They went past innumerable doors and meteors, finally stopping at what appeared to be a facade of a Grecian-style manor floating in the middle of nowhere. Technus knocked politely for a surprise.

"He's in there?" Jazz wondered aloud.

Technus scoffed. "Of course, that's the home of the Master of Art and supposedly se-"

"Nicolai?" Came a brisk, educated man's voice. He had a mostly ordinary appearence: a curly mop of unruly black hair, green bespeckled eyes, awhite shirt, purple vest, black slacks, purple trench coat, dressy shoes, an odd, long goatee, a long cream colored fluffy scarf and pale skin-then again, there was the pointed ears and shark teeth. "You bring a friend, how grand. I've been desiring some companionship of the fairer kind since Walker released me." Save for a few details, he looked like a bohemian, with a touch of New Yorker slick sophistication.

Jazz blushed; he was cute. "Not exactly a friend." Technus spoke awkwardly. "I, Technus, bring someone in need of your talents, Ghost Writer."

Ghost Writer looked Jazz up and down with an interested smile and laughed. "You _are_ a friend! Such a lovely girl..."

"Not those talents!" Technus snapped.

"Ah, so you have a _story_."

"Yes, I do. Alright, I've got a bargain to keep." Jazz unhooked the Specter Deflector and put it into her backpack. At Ghost Writer's intrigued glance, she spoke. "It's a long story."

"Splendid. Come inside." Ghost Writer took a hold of her hand gently and pulled her onto his stoop. "Nicolai, won't you come inside?"

"I, Technus, have much research to conduct! I will return another turn, but now must return home!" Technus floated away quickly.

Ghost Writer chuckled. "Come now! This must be a most interesting tale you have. Technus is a smart fellow, but a good conversationalist he is not." He started walking.

Jazz followed, unsure how she was able to walk normally in apparently low gravity. "I've noticed. His name reminds me of Nicolai Tesla."

"It's possible he could have been Tesla once, I'm not sure when he died. I often keep to myself and news here can travel slowly." They kept walking.

"I've also noticed that some ghosts have special things only they can do. What's yours?"

"By writing or speaking prose, usually rhyme, I can make things happen. There are limits I can only work with what's in an area and I can't make people act out of character. I can't fling about trees here, for example and couldn't make you sing _Time Warp_ if you didn't know the words or if you don't like singing for another."

"That sounds kind of limited." She shrugged.

"...yes... but if even the shade of possibility is there, the beginnings of an emotion... the best thing is that I can undo what I've done." He stated in light-hearted arguement. "Ah, here's the library. Please, sit down. Tell me your story! Perhaps a side effect of my powers will fill in the parts you don't know." He formed with ectoplasm two flat panels, sat down and started typing on one like a keyboard, using the other like a screen. "You may begin."

She told her story and noticed his surprise at a few parts. When she finished, she heaved a sigh. "So what do you have?"

"Something a powerful ghost would kill me for." Ghost Writer looked troubled. "This so-called 'old friend' of your father's is a half-ghost as well, a well known ghost called Plasmius here, but known as Vlad Masters on Earth."

"The Wisconsin Ghost... no wonder." She realized.

A grandfather clock struck the hour. "The hour is late. You must be tired. I will show you the guestroom." He 'closed' the computer and it disappeared.

"Wow, two AM. I'm surprised I talked so mch, I'm sorry I'm so long winded." He led her down the hall, smiling oddly.

"Don't be! The story was a good one. Not many would face Spectra, most would run." He spoke admiringly, but sighed. He continued in rhyme.

_Strong with a manner mild,  
You'll forget troubles a while.  
Sleep beautiful one within the hour  
and dream of sweet things in my bower.  
__In the morn when sleep takes flight,  
May tender emotions in your heart alight  
Fevered passions 'till hence unknown produced  
of which Sappho, Lennon and Poe perused  
The gentle stirrings and fierce stillness  
That with lip and eye, loin and hand do confess  
Let your emotions build and blind  
Bound to this place 'till Time's decree you find  
May what Time's guardian compels me do  
Never be a thing I'll someday rue  
So come now, soon comes restful sleep  
Your mind percieving Nocturne's blessed deep._

Jazz's eyes had become hooded as he spoke and she'd become flushed as well to his delight. "I hope that guest room's not too far..." She smiled at him warmly.

"Oh, no. Even if it were, I would gladly carry you there." _Like a bride. _He didn't say aloud.

She smiled shyly. She managed to follow him to the guest room and get a belt full of gadgetry and a backback off her before she slumped, Ghost Writer catching her before she hit the ground. "Something has interfered with the flow of time." Came a warm, familiar voice.

An old man greeted his sight. He was in a purple robe, a chain of a watch hanging out of a pocket and not one but several wrist watches on both arms. He was blue-skinned, red-eyed with a marking below his left eye that could have been a scar or tattoo and a long beard hanging over his ticking chest. Clockwork was a ghost few saw and even fewer were happy to see.

"Not I. Can things go back to their proper courses?" Ghost Writer spoke , his head tilted at the Time Guardian.

"The ghost, now a smooth faced child, frowned. "You could, but there would still be traces of the paradox. There is only one future... and this new potential must be realized." His form became that of a clean-shaven youth, tall and proud. "Terrible things happen in that other future and many people and ghosts die and are extinguished. Could you change it back...? Certainly; _should_ you?" The ghost became a bent old man once more and sighed.. "I cannot technically interfere, but I will_ meddle_... but do not count on my interference or intervention. What has been done these nine days will not and must not ever be undone."

"What should I do with her?" Ghost Writer looked a bit meek.

Clockwork changed into a smirking child. "What you were _going_ to do. Treat her well, she's the reason for this new future."

Ghost Writer blinked. "How?

The guardian actually _giggled_. "Butterflies... a stone in the pond... by a single change, the world is affected. It no longer matters what she did or did not do now, the change is now much bigger than she is." The Time Master was then a young man who formed a portal and stepped through.

The remaining ghost had a vaguely ticked expression. "Well _that's_ maddeningly unhelpful." Riddles were usually fun, but this... "What do butterflies have to do with stones?"

_April 15, 9:23 AM; Awaken_

When the teen again came to himself, he felt much better, though he still felt very weak. How long had he been asleep _this_ time? He still had an IV in his arm and a few curious pats revealed (much to his embarrassment) a catheter and a rather distinctive undergarment. He _had_ been sleeping for a week... "Well, on the bright side, I will never have to worry about my stepmom or my period ever again. On the other hand, I have a really bad feeling about this."

Just his luck: Vlad Masters came in, making him silently grateful that the man hadn't heard him.

The man was, for a surprise, wearing a white button-up shirt and grey, belted slacks. Still formal, but far more relaxed than that slick suit of emotional armor. "Good morning, Daniel. How do you feel this morning?"

"You have amazing timing; confused and hungry. How long have I been sick?" He asked.

The man looked tired."Ten days." He spoke slowly.

The teen went a little pale. "Unbelievable. I wasn't exactly well enough to ask this before..." Daniel's face was carefully neutral. "Are we related? Are you a family friend? I highly doubt it, but are you a doctor?"

Vlad hesitated. "For now... you are my charge. You still aren't well enough to be going anywhere for a while. I _do_ have medical training, as I've had to become my own doctor."

The teen looked surprised. "Well, that wasn't the answer I was expecting, but why would you need to do that?"

Vlad smiled sardonically and transformed, noting the wisp of mist that came out of the teen's mouth. "Does this answer your question, Little Badger? I am half-ghost, as are you." Vlad explained. "You'll need training-a guiding hand to relearn what you've lost, which you'll find nowhere else in the world." His ghost form was extremely unsettling. His hair was now black with white roots, his skin an impossible shade of blue, his eyes solid blood red, his his open mouthed leering smile revealing fangs. There was so much that screamed a sense of wrongness... He now wore a long white jacket, white pants, black boots, gloves, belt, some sort of turtleneck under the coat and a white cowled cape lined in red. He seemed to have more of a presense-one that was menacing and volitile. "Help that's there for the asking." The ghost continued.

The teen was sheet white, apparently terrified but his expression was one of wonder. "This is... if I'm... half-ghost, I'm..." Daniel seemed to stumble. "Can you... help me?"

Vlad Plasmius's smile became oddly warm. "Why certainly, Daniel." He changed back to human, the teen teen nervous still. "Of course., you understand why this has to stay between us, don't you." It wasn't a question.

The teen nodded. "For one, the government would lock us up and want to study us. Just a guess, but we do have abilities, right? Abilities that make us _weapons_. We wouldn't have control of our lives, even if we weren't captured. Reporters, fan clubs, hate groups and what not would never leave us alone. We'd have to fear attacks all the time and we might as well kiss our human rights goodbye-to enough people, we wouldn't be human anymore. Parapsychologists would have a field day... but you'd never allow me to tell, even if I wanted to, which I do _not_."

"Very good, Little Badger." Vlad clapped facetiously. "Nice to know you have the memories of a thoughtful, intelligent person."

Daniel blinked. "Should I be flattered or insulted?"

"It doesn't matter." Vlad shrugged. "I'll return shortly with something from the kitchen."

Daniel watched him go, sighing in relief when he was sure he was alone. "Okay, Cassie. _Think_. You're stuck in someone else's body, your new identity's archrival has been straight and wants to train you. You're probably in danger and you already almost died. _Something happened here_. **When **am I? Before Kindred Spirits, apparently, but how long?" He spoke in a near-whisper. He did not think of himself as Daniel-or Danny-not yet, anyway. "I wonder if this wierd amnesia is permanent."

He couldn't have possibly known about Danny's wish, never.


End file.
